


The Only One Who Ever Truly Understood Him Was Dogmeat

by Fallenghost



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Kind of a charcter study, Mentions of drug abuse and drinking, Not really sure what to tag this as, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-12-16 09:09:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallenghost/pseuds/Fallenghost
Summary: 200 years after the bombs fell, and after escaping Vault 111, the Lone Wanderer is thrown into a destroyed wasteland of a world. In a world that only looks after itself, the Lone Wanderer meets several different kinds of people, only being able to call one of those people a true friend. And that dog was Dogmeat.





	The Only One Who Ever Truly Understood Him Was Dogmeat

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an idea that I got into my head and wanted to write down. It mentions some of my favorite companions in Fallout 4. It has been a while since I last played so I may have gotten some of their personalities a bit wrong, so if I did I apologize. 
> 
> I do hope that you enjoy! Please comment and tell me what you think!
> 
> I also may make many changes to this in the future. Which is a common hazard to many of the things that I write.

Ghost sat in an abandoned apartment on the second floor, his back to a corner in the wall, a broken window across from him and the half missing staircase to his left. His modified combat rifle lay on the floor next to him, his hand resting against its smooth wooden stock. Dogmeat lay draped across his legs with his furry head resting on his left thigh, his ears twitching slightly in his sleep. His ice blue eyes peered out of the murky window at the equally murky night sky. As he and the dog settled for the night, rain started to patter through the broken roof, a companionable silence stretching between the two. The sound calmed Ghost; the sound of rain had always relaxed him. He ran a hand through Dogmeat's velvety fur, the dog rumbling his happiness at the attention.

As the night drug on, Ghost felt himself starting to drift, his thoughts starting to wander. The excitable mutt had become one of his greatest companions, someone he could always depend on. The dog was smarter than one would first think. When someone would speak to him, he would respond as if he could understand them. He would pause when given a command as if he were pondering what he should do then he would complete the action in a way no one would expect a dog to. Ghost thought it odd how he could come to rely on such a beast over anyone else. But he would prefer no one else.

Ghost had never really had a thing for relationships, romantic or not. Nora had been the one and only acceptance. His beloved wife had understood him; understood that his silence was not always brought on by annoyance or anger, but only for what it was; that he was merely a quiet person. When he would get into a mood where he was more brooding than usual, she wouldn't ply him with questions or demand answers, she would only sit next to him on the couch as they watched some sappy romance movie and wait for him to speak to her, or allow her shoulder for him to cry on as he relived the horrors from his deployment; all those souls that he had snuffed out as he had calmly and emotionlessly sniped them off from some high up perch, the tortures he had to endure being a prisoner of war. She would sit quietly, stroking the fresh scars on his face that he had received from an enemy soldier who had decided that he should have a permanent mockery of a smile etched onto his face, and running her hand through his short night black hair as he howled his rage and grief into her sweater, his tears slowly staining it, and hold him throughout the night until his shaking and sniffling would subside.

Dogmeat would have liked her. Nora was such a gentle and caring soul. She would have liked him too. Ghost could imagine them piled up together on the couch, watching those terrible movies she was so fond of, and Dogmeat following Shaun around when he had grown old enough to walk, gently nudging him out of trouble.

He missed them. _God he missed her._ Nora was the only person he had ever loved and she had been so cruelly taken from him along with their dear son, Shaun. He had cried his heart out when he had finally gotten her out of that damned machine, clutching her still frozen body to his chest as he sobbed and screamed until no more tears would come out. Then he carried her out of that vault to where their home had once stood, now a shell of its former self. Ghost had buried her in the back yard, a crudely made cross marking the shallow grave. He had listened as Codsworth prattled on, the robot grieving in his own way. Then he set out in the wasteland of a world towards what used to be Concord, where Codsworth said he might find a clue to finding his son.

That was when he had found Dogmeat. Ghost had made it to Red Rocket Truck Stop, empty and now devoid of life all excpet for a lonely dog. A German Shepard, Ghost had guessed but he couldn't have bee sure. He had crouched down in front of the dog as he gamboled up to him, barking excitedly. He refused to leave Ghost's side as they made their way to Concord.

He and Preston had come to a mutual agreement with each other. The Minuteman had a strong sense of duty and had come to respect Ghost. He never bothered him more than necessary, only when a settlement was in trouble from Raiders or a settler had been kidnapped, and asking him if he would look into it. Ghost would almost always accept, since when he wasn't looking for leads on his son, he really didn't have anything better to do, and he was always looking for something to do, if only to keep from dwelling on the past and what could have been.

He would say he would take care of it and would turn to head off, Preston giving Dogmeat a quick pat on the head and telling the dog to take care of the 'Lone Wanderer' as people had come to call him since only a few knew him as Ghost because he never told anyone his true name, only the codename he had been given in the army. Dogmeat would give the Minuteman an affirmative bark and dart off to catch up with his chosen master.

Piper was too loud. Ghost couldn't say that he disliked her though. She was so full of life, not allowing her own hardships to weigh her down. She was always doing something, darting around following leads or bouncing on her heels when she was actually standing in one spot. He certainly enjoyed her lively attitude, but Ghost could never spend too long a time with her. She would hound him with questions, asking about the vault, what his life was like before. He had only ever been a soldier, a sniper, and he didn't remember his time in the vault.

When he would search for companionship and would end up at her door, the reporter would always let him in, asking a multitude of different questions, how he was and if he was doing alright. She would never accept his answer of "I'm fine", but she would eventually give up seeing that he wouldn't give her any more than that.

Dogmeat adored her. Ghost would sit on the dingy little couch at the Publick Occurrences office, watching as the dog would follow Piper around as she paced back and forth around the small building, jotting down ideas for stories on scraps of paper or fussing over the printing press that was due to fall apart any day now. He would snack on the treats that she and her little sister Nat would sneak to him when they thought that Ghost wasn't watching, but he always saw anyway, giving a small smile to Dogmeat as the dog enjoyed all the attention he was getting.

Nick was alright. The old Synth understood his need for silence. He wouldn't ask questions like most others would, he would only ask if was alright and take his quiet answer, not prying anymore than that. They would sit across from each other at the old beaten up desk inside of Valentine's Detective Agency, drinking whiskey and smoking the old cigars that Ghost had found somewhere. Ghost had always found it strange how a man made of metal and gears could actually smoke and drink, but Nick seemed to find enjoyment in it anyway so Ghost never questioned it.

They would sit well into the night; long past since Ellie went to sleep, in silent companionship, Dogmeat lying at their feet. Ghost would watch as the detective would review old case studies, commenting every once and a while and informing him what he was working on. After the whiskey had been drunk and the cigars burned to ash, Ghost would get up to leave. Nick would offer for him to stay the night, but they both knew that Ghost would only politely decline and make his way out the door, Dogmeat, the dog who chose to follow him, skipping at his heels.

Ghost and MacCready had never gotten along. Anytime that Ghost would show any kind of brutality, MacCready was quick to tell him off, but oh, he certainly accepted it when it suited him.

They had quickly fallen out of favor from each other. MacCready had told him that he had hoped that they come become "more than friends", but he couldn't follow a man that showed such harshness, not that the other sniper had the right to say anything, for he was searching for his own revenge. He spouted harsh words at Ghost, saying that he had also lost people that he had cared for, that he understood what he was going through, but he didn't have to let that change him. He would curse and throw things at Ghost, ignoring that warning growls coming from Dogmeat who would snarl and snap at him, but would never attack because the dog knew that Ghost wouldn't want that.

MacCready could never understand all the different kinds of hell that Ghost had went through.

He and Cait had also had their differences. The former Raider was a harsh critic to everything that Ghost ever did. She had been a very heavy chem addict, and had tried to get Ghost to be the same. He had been an addict once, a long time ago in a different world. He never wanted to be that way again, though he can still be a pretty heavy drinker sometimes. He still regrets some of the things he has done.

Dogmeat had shown a certain kind of softness towards the woman, though she barely seemed to tolerate him.

They had argued over many things, but Cait had decided that she had finally wanted to stop using chems. So Ghost had helped her on her quest. Helper her get clean. Then they had parted ways. He sometimes wondered if she was still alive out there somewhere. He hoped she was.

Hancock was a very interesting person. The mayor was a very eccentric person and very devoted to his people. But he was also very unpredictable.

Ghost had always felt the need to keep a hand on his pockets when he was around the Ghoul, making sure that nothing had been stolen, and he always made sure to look over his shoulder when he was in Goodneighbor, for Goodneighbor was a free city after all, there was no telling what could be waiting for him at the end of a dark alley. Ghost would sometimes catch Dogmeat baring his fangs at the mayor when he wasn't watching. The dog felt just as uneasy around him as Ghost did.

But Hancock had always made sure to make Ghost feel welcome in his little squat of a city. He invited him into his home, gave him food and drink, and would supply Ghost with jobs that the sniper knew he wouldn't be able to refuse. Unless he wanted a knife in the back of course. The only good thing that came out of their acquaintance was that the Ghoul always gave Ghost the caps he was due.

 

As he sat there, his hand entangled in Dogmeat's slightly shaggy fur, Ghost wondered if he would ever find his son. If he would die in this wasteland and be reunited with Nora, or if he would go to hell like he had promised Kellogg all those weeks ago if only so he could kill him again.

He wondered if he and Kellogg, if he hadn't stolen his son and ended up on opposing sides, could have became friends. When he had spoken to the old merc, he had sounded tired, so weary of life. When he had confronted him that old fort and they had shared those few words, Kellogg had almost seemed as lonely as Ghost had felt. He seemed to have accepted that he would die by Ghost's hand.

Ghost wondered if when he did finally die and if he did go to hell, which he would most likely do so, if he and Kellogg would have the chance to speak once more. Maybe they actually would have the chance to become friends.

Ghost finally fell asleep with the sound of the rain and Dogmeat's soft breathing filling his ears.

Dogmeat was the one person who has always been there for him. The dog that chooses who he follows. According to Mama Murphy, finds those who need him the most, but Ghost didn't know, the old lady's head was too chem addled to make sense of half of what she says.

All he knew was that Dogmeat had been there since the beginning, ever since he had found his way out of that godforsaken vault. He had never left his side, even when Ghost would curse at him while he was in a drunken stupor. The dog would only wait out of sight, dodging the bottles that were shattered against the walls in fits of rage, until Ghost would collapse in a pathetic pile of limbs, sobbing so hard that he couldn't breathe.

Then he would go to the man he chose to follow, allowing him to wrap his arms around his neck and cry into his fur, accepting the broken apologies from Ghost asking him for forgiveness. He would comfort his human in the only way a dog could; by staying by his side and putting up with his mood swings, brooding, and self-hate.

 

As the sun started to rise, light filtering through the broken roof, Dogmeat felt the human stir from his light slumber. He picked his head up to look at Ghost, tilting his head to the side in what he knew was a cute manner.

Ghost cracked open a single blue eye. "Good morning," he mumbled as he gently ruffled the hair behind his ears.

Dogmeat snuffed at him in response, which caused a small smile to curl at the edges of Ghost's lips. He nudged him in the shoulder, which Dogmeat took as a cue to get up.

He got up, sitting next to Ghost with a wagging tail, as the man stretched and slung his rifle over his shoulder. Ghost looked down at him, ruffling his ears again.

"You ready to go, buddy?"

Dogmeat snarled playfully, causing the man to smile again.

"Then let's go. Maybe we'll find him today."

Dogmeat followed the man he chose as his master out of the worn down apartment. He would follow his chosen master to the ends of the earth, if only to make him a little less lonely. Dogmeat was, after all, the only one who ever truly understood him.

 


End file.
